


A Surprise Visitor

by mel8



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Crime Fighting, F/M, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-19 11:23:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4744490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mel8/pseuds/mel8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock walk into their flat to see that they have an uninvited guest; a small one. The obvious resemblance between Sherlock and the child gives away the reason why they are there.<br/>"Evening"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Johnlock fanfiction and second written work, so still pretty new at this. Hope y'all enjoy.

Ten years have come and gone. Ten years, one month and five days have past since John and Sherlock first met that afternoon at Bart's many years ago. 

The pair have gone through so much in such a short span of time. Of going off and solving cases together, the arrival of the villainous Moriarty which ended with the separation of the two friends for two long years. 

In that time John had met the, Miss Mary Morstan and fell in love. On the night of attempting to propose none other than the presumably dead, Sherlock Holmes returns, it goes without saying that John didn't take it very well. But as the saying goes 'the show must go on,' as John in the end manages to propose and later marry, Mary with Sherlock as best man for who else could fill the position? And of course secrets never stay secret for long.

Those secrets revealing that, Mary was not who she claimed to be once Sherlock had pieced together through his and John's encounter with, Charles Augustus Magnussen. A business man in news that had 'the dirt' on everyone, including Mary. He was truly a pain in the arse that is until Sherlock put a bullet through his brain.

Problem solved.

After all that mess was done with John and Mary try to continue on, but once the truth is revealed it's hard to go back to believing the lie and thus ended the short marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Watson.

Sherlock was there to clean up the mess and revive the duo of the past of solving crimes, just the two of them against the rest of the world. 

Anyone with eyes could have seen that they soon became more than just "flatmates," or "friends". 

Which catches us up to present day....

"Only you would manage to turn our anniversary holiday into a crime scence. How do you always manage to find a case even in the most remote parts of England?" 

John walks into the flat in a huff setting his luggage aside to put away for later, with Sherlock right behind him removing both his signiture coat and scarf.

"Oh, come now. Don't act like you didn't enjoy it, you were even telling me how brilliant I was, and later showed me." The tall, dark haired brunette replies with a lewd expression. Watching with fascination at the lovely shade of blush dusting John's cheeks.

"Well how do you expect me to react? You were showing off, as usual, and you know how that affects me." John mumbles while looking away shyly out of embarresment, shuffling on his feet.

Sherlock, who just loves to toy with his blogger, goes to wrap him in his arms, "I do indeed know how it affects you, which is why I did so." Sherlock whispers seductively into John's ear sending shivers down the shorter man's spine.

"And it was so obvious, who would give their pen, a family heirloom I might add, to an author with a horrid habit of chewing on the ends," nibbling at the end of John's ear to emphasize his point, "unless it was coated with posion?"

The stout blonde's knees were beginning to give out on him causing him to hold onto Sherlock and his breathing becoming erratic from arousal.

"Yes, hah... y-you've already explained to me and the officers present already." John was having a little trouble focusing as Sherlock moved from his ear downward toward his neck, knowing exactly where John's sensitive spots were. 

Since both were distracted, they failed to notice the new presence that had entered the living area. 

John chooses that moment to open his half lidded eyes to see that there was now a small child in front of them that was rubbing the sleep out of its own eyes. Such an odd appearance causes the good Doctor to stiffen in Sherlock's embrace out of sheer shock and the ever observant consulting detective notices the small change. But before he can ask John what's the matter, said man speaks.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" The soldier uses his trained muscles to push Sherlock off of him from surprise of their uninvited guest. As a result the light shove causes the consulting detective to fall like a tree over the misplaced suitcases from their holiday.

The new angle provides Sherlock a look at the child (although upside down) taking in its features. 

Starting from the mass of dark curls on the small head which strangely enough did not have the same roundness as other children did. Sharp, high cheek bones on a thin and rectangular shaped head. Eyes that were a unique mix of blue, green, and specks of gold which were sharp and held a level of awareness and intelligence a small child shouldn't be able to posses. In the middle of that angular face was a small nose and under that rested a pair of uneven lips, the top one being much thinner than the plump bottom.

It was from these lips that a single word was spoken.

"Evening." 

Detective and child continue to not break eye contact as it seems to be the child's turn to take in all of Sherlock.

"How'd you get in here?" John asks after being snapped out of his daze as if he were under a spell and the young child had spoken the magic word to release him. "Can you tell us your name and where you came from, do you need help?" Putting on a professional face thinking that they may have a new client since they get a variety. 

The child looks up to face the curious doctor who seeks answers to the sudden mystery in their flat. 

What John sees cause him to forget to breathe for a moment and his mind to go blank. Then a floodgate opens and a river of questions flood into his mind so quickly that he can't focus on any single one. But one thought repeats itself...

This child looks eriely familiar.

"My child obviously." Sherlock being the thick git that he is doesn't notice why John has suddenly become so quiet but continues with his deductions, "The same hair, eyes, and face; a perfect clone of myself. Though an actual clone of myself is minimal but highly unlikely, I would have to say you were created naturally. And since I've only ever slept with one woman, you are no doubt the result of my one night with Irene Adler."

However lost John is at the moment he does find his voice again to ask a ridiculously obvious question, "The Woman? I thought she died years ago?"

Sadly he goes ignored as parent and child size each other up for the first time. Both looking more like a pair of street dogs circling around each other to see if the other will bite first. 

It seems like junior will take the first nibble.

"Glad to see she wasn't exaggerating about you. Nice to finally meet you, I'm Max." A small hand is extended to shake the twos hands. 

Having no idea what else to do in a situation, who would really? Both John and Sherlock give a single firm shake to the young lad.

"Now that the pleasantries are done..." A replica of eyes look into the original, "do you know why I am here?"

"Of course." 

John is glad that someone is finally going to answer his first question as he turns to Sherlock since he always has the answers. 

"Irene Adler is dead."

 

   


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out a little more about the small visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like it.

The next morning finds the good doctor in both his and Sherlock's bed, still feeling exhausted from the long holiday they just returned from late last night. His limbs still weighted down from the deep sleep he has just woken up from and blinking eyes adjusting to the on burst of light coming in through the windows from the mid morning sun.

Next to him he sees the familiar head full of dark curls, yet something seems off. It's then that John notices how small the body is and for a quick moment panics until the memories from last night flood into his mind.

A different kind of panic sets in...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Silence fills the air after Sherlock's statement...'Irene Adler is dead.'

Just four words, but those words completely change everything. That Ms. Adler wasn't killed all those years ago, quite then opposite in fact since the evidence is standing just in arms length away from the duo.

Then a conversation from the past echos to the present. John recalls how Mycroft had met him outside of their flat talking about her downstairs in the small cafe, but one sentence sticks out the most from the fog of memories.

'It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me.'

Those words continue to bounce around in his mind and John can't remain silent any longer.

"Wait! Just wait." The overwhelmed army doctor bites the inside of his cheek as he breathes harshly through his nose trying to calm himself down. "Sherlock, would you care to explain? From the beginning?"  
The lithe man breaks eye contact with his estranged child to turn his attention to John. He observes and sees the confusion, underneath he sees that John is also in pain. Oh, how he hates to see John in pain. Sherlock with all his knowledge knew that John would have eventually found out about his past with Irene. John may not be the same level of intelligence as Sherlock, but that didn't make him an idiot.

"Right. From the beginning...," Sherlock clears his throat. "When Irene was captured by those terrorist I helped her escape because she fascinated me, almost like a kindred spirit. When we were safely away, she asked to...spend one night with me so as to leave without regrets. Never thought a child would turn out of it" He confesses.

John can only just stand there as the truth washes over him, his mind is a jumbled mess trying to process everything. He feels like he is adrift in the sea with a storm causing the waves to throw him to and fro. A small voice throws him a lifeline.

"Gross!" Max's face scrunched up out of disgust. "I didn't want to hear about my conception, you could have left that part out."

"Oh, come on. Don't be a child." Sherlock scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"If you haven't noticed? I am a child." Max eyes rolls as well, looking so much like Sherlock that it's frightening how much they resemble each other. 

"Now hold on! We're getting off track here." John pinches the bridge of his nose as he feels a massive headache coming on. He appreciates Shelock's honesty but realizes that everyone's life has changed dramatically. But small steps first.

John takes a deep breath through his nose to calm himslef before he speaks, "Max, was it?"

"Could you tell us more about yourself? Where you're originally from and the like?" He bends down low to be at eye level with the child and keeps a warm smile as if he were with a patient at the clinic. But of course with the spawn of Sherlock that backfires.

"I may be a child, but I don't appreciate being treated as such. And you're the detectives, you should be able to figure it out." With arms crossed and chin pointed up in the air to look down at John. With that infamous, haughty attitude there's no way Sherlock could ever deny being the father.

The good doctor couldn't help but giggle at that little outburst. After living with the eccentric detective for many years he's learned to find that trait endearing and now seeing a miniature of it, John could only think it 'cute'. But the moment didn't last long as the miniature received a smack to the head from Sherlock.

"Hey!" Max rubs the injury to soothe the pain as daggers are glared up at Sherlock. "What was that for?"

"That is no way to speak to John." Staring down at his miniature.

"Hmph, sorry. I just wanted to see you do your deductions on me." Mutters Max as small eyes look away and creamy skin turns flush from embarrassment.

Now John has not spent much time with children before out of feeling awkward around them and never understanding how people can just fawn over every little thing a child does. It could be because young Max was exactly like Sherlock or because this was the most interactions he had with a small child, but that absolutely melted his heart.

John is won over and scoops Max into a hug, "It's alright, you're forgive." He turns his attention to the detective, "Sherlock, that is no way to treat a child. The poor thing is tired and alone, even having gone through a tragedy." 

"You can't be serious?" Very few things catch the older Holmes off guard and right now would be one of those few.

"Just play along. It's not going to kill you." John adjusts Max as they get comfortable on the couch.

"Ugh, fine!" Sherlock takes a moment to take in all the signs that only his eyes can see. Peeling back every layer so to reveal the truth and get answers.

If he had his coat on he surely would have flipped it to be more dramatic but he settles to just open his mouth.

"You're seven years old possibly born on January, give or take a month since I last saw your mother. Juding from your slight accent you were born in the US but that specific dialect is uniquely from the south. More likely Texas, being one of the larger states it would be easier to disappear." He steps closer to take in more details. "And judging from the scrapes on your knees and elbows you're a very active child getting in all sorts of trouble. The uneven tan lines on your shins and arms suggests that you also play a sport, football to be exact."

Sherlock grabs Max's hands to see what more he can find out, "Oh, I'm impressed. You are also musical. The short nails and calluses are found on those who play a string instrument, most likely the viloin. "He takes a quick sniff. "And a pet fish, a subtle scent of fish food from dipping your fingers into the small can and sprinkling it into the bowl." Sherlock looks at Max for confirmation. 

"Yup, I'm seven. Born January eighth in a small Texas hospital and moved a total of five times to El Paso, Amarillo, Paris, Rome, and finally here. I've played the violin and football, or soccer as they call it, since I was five. And my goldfish's name is 'Moby' like the whale." Max gives the little details to fill in the blanks. 

Giving a smug smile at being right so far Sherlock continues, "Knowing your mother she continued to make a name for herself, hence the constant moving, until she got in trouble with serious people resulting in her death. You've obviously known about me for some time since you come straight to me after her passing. But I will have to say that she chose an unimaginative name like Maximilian since you go by 'Max' for short."

"You know how she was." Max merely shrugs, "She bit off more than she could chew on the last one, the Mexican Cartels are some serious people. She's told me about you and Doctor Watson here, even about Mycroft. No one knew what to do with me so I was put into the system, but I couldn't just stay out in the open where they could get me."

"What do you mean? Are there people after you?" John asked.

"Basically it was the same when you met her. She had something she wasn't supposed to have and they killed her trying to get it back." There was this far away look in Max's eyes, "Mama hid it, but now I have it. Doesn't take a genius to figure out that they'll come for me in search of it. So I left the foster home that I was at and snuck onto a plane that was heading here.

John looked on with disbelief. This seven year old child retelling their story as if it were no big deal. Completely nonchalant that they were apparently in mortal danger and had traveled across the world completely alone. Never had John felt so strongly about protecting someone as much as this child, however sudden their appearance was.

"Don't worry, you're safe with us now." Acting as the heart of the duo, he holds Max into a tight embrace.

All the exhaustion suddenly hit Max all at once, from the emotional trauma of the funeral, coming to the UK all alone to finally meet Sherlock to explain everything, and to top it all off the jetlag from the nine hour time difference. Max could feel the fog of sleep settling in and wanting nothing more than to fall asleep in the loving and accepting embrace of John.

"Oh, and one more thing. Max is short for Maxine. Not Maximilian." And with that she was out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the whole ordeal from last night, John fell asleep beside her since she wouldn't let go.

"This is Sherlock's daughter." John let's the words roll of his tounge to get used to the idea. He had always wanted children since he was a young man, not entirely sure about Sherlock but perhaps in the future they could have adopted. Looks like they can skip all that since the unexpected visitor they received last night pushed forward any chance of talking it over.

As John watches Max sleep so peacefully and face completely lax, he feels wholly unprepared for caring for a small child. He has his hands full taking care of Sherlock since the grown man often forgets to meet his needs of food and sleep while on cases. Now there will be another human life that will be part of their responsibility that is totally dependant on them for food, shelter, safety, and guidance.

"We're all going to have to have a serious chat about this." John covers his face with a single hand. The day has just started and he already feels drained, just thinking about having to argue with Sherlock. But looking back at Max, he feels that it'll be worth it.


	3. chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First family breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy with how much y'all liked it, the feedback fueled me to get the next chapter out as fast as I could. Hope yall like it and thanks again for the comments and kudos.

After finishing his morning ritual of showering and getting dressed, John walks into the kitchen to get started on breakfast and sees Sherlock hunched over his microscope working on another one of his experiments. Then John notices the beans on toast next to the dectective, his favorite, and of course Sherlock made that as a peace offering since the ever observant man knows what this morning's topic is going to be.

"What's this then?"

Sherlock looks up from from the slide of microorganisms, "Beans on toast, obviously."

"I can see that." John sighs knowing that it will be like pulling teeth with him, "Are you trying to bribe me with food to get on my good side?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Sherlock answers without looking up so that he can write down more observations into his notes.

Well that was a lie if the doctor ever heard one. The man sitting in front of him can't even be bothered to grab his phone from out of his coat pocket or do the shopping, much less make breakfast for the sake of it. But John can't help but think it sweet how out of character his husband is acting to try to appease John. But now is not the time for that, if Sherlock is planning to try and dodge the conversation then John will just have to attack directly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Now this question causes Sherlock to finally look John in the eyes and realize how much he has hurt the good doctor. After faking his death all those years ago, the brunette watched from a distance with matching agony as John tried to cope, even if it was for his own protection. When Sherlock resurrected himself from the grave he vowed never to be the cause for John to have that look of anguish on his face ever again.

Seems like he managed to break that promise. Becuase right at this moment, John has that same look in his eyes, the look of absolute betrayal which just breaks Sherlock.

"The whole point of faking someone's death is to make sure everyone believes it, it wasn't personal." Choosing to be completely honest with John, "Please believe me when I say that I am truly sorry for not telling you, but it was necessary so I don't regret my choice. I only regret that I've hurt you."

John can see the remorse in Sherlock's eyes and feels relief that he didn't truly want to keep anything from John and deep down John knew this. The consolting detective has always shared his thoughts with his doctor about cases, his thoughts towards others, even the self-doubt that the brunette held on rare occasions. The only time that Sherlock wouldn't share anything was when the life of another was at risk and Irene fell into that category.

So the army doctor, who recalls when he preformed the GMC Guidance On Good Practice, understands that he truly has no reason to be angry or hurt at Sherlock's past actions.

"I believe you." Three words that have a magical effect over the lithe man as he releases his tense shoulders out of relief. "I also believe that you did the right thing of keeping it a secret so that no one could find out the truth." Looking into Sherlock's eyes in order to get his sincerity across, but that's not all, this conversation is long from over.

"But now we have something different to discuss. What are we going to-"

Before finishing that sentence, Max has finally woken up and enters the kitchen while staggering all the way since her limbs and mind aren't fully awake. She was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, a dark purple plaid long sleeve shirt with the sleeves folded to the elbows and green cargo pants that were so baggy that the only thing keeping them from falling off her slim waste, was the matching green belt.

It was no wonder that Sherlock had thought that Maxine was a boy considering the way she dressed and how her dark curls only reached a little past her ears. But if you looked closely enough you could see a subtle softness that is uniquely feminine, from the long lashes that whispered against her cheeks while she blinked away the sleep from her eyes. Eyes that were slightly rounder than Sherlock's focus on the two adult men sitting at the table and lips that were a startling shade of red, as if she were wearing lipstick, open.

"Good morning. I'm sorry for sleeping so long."

A broad smile spreads on John's face, "Good morning, Max. Did you sleep well?"

"Yup, I was really tired but I'm wide awake now." Max yawns as she walks over to John and surprises everyone by climbing up to sit on his lap.

The gesture gives John a warm feeling at seeing how much Max has already taken to the army doctor and out of instinct he wraps his arms around her so that she sits securely. He begins to think to himself that this is what it must feel like for parents. How they bend over backwards in order to make their child happy and feel secure. The doctor begins to understand how fast a bond can form towards parent and child.

"How about some breakfast, hmm? Sherlock made me something, I'm sure he would love to make something for you too." At this Sherlock looks up in surprise at John while the soldier gives him a pointed look, daring the brunette to say otherwise.

Max shakes her head, "No. I'm not hungry. I don't eat breakfast."

Sherlock looks at the young girl a little taken back since he's never met anyone with the same eating habits as himself. Turns out that not only does Max look like her father but she has also inherited his bad habits as well. That study about Nature VS Nurture pops up from his mind palace and makes a side note to conduct an experiment for further study later.

"Oh, no. I will not allow another 'Sherlock' into this flat. You're a growing girl and breakfast is an important meal time." John begins to scold at Max with the same rehearsed speech that he gives Sherlock.

"I don't like eating in the mornings." Max makes a disgusted face as if eating were a some sort of punishment, "Besides, I eat plenty for lunch and dinner. I just don't like eating in the mornings."

The ringing of a phone filled the air and John recognizes that it's coming from his phone, he goes to answer it.

"John Watson. Sarah? What can I do for you?" John is puzzled to receive a call from his coworker Sarah on his day off. "Today? Well its just...no its okay, I'll be there in an hour. Yeah, okay, bye."

The short blonde hangs up and sighs, "Well I just got called in to cover someone." He looks down to Max to address her, "I'll come by around noon so we can all go out for lunch, yeah? Anything in particular you would like to eat?"

"Fish and chips!" Max exclaims. "I've never had it before and now that I'm in London, I'm dying to try it. Can we please, please, please please?"

Seeing at how earnest Max is begging for such a simple meal causes John to huff out a laugh, "Yeah, sure. Sherlock knows the best place in London for some fish and chips. So we'll all go out together at lunch time so that we can get better acquainted. Sound like a plan?"

"Yay! I can't wait!" A bright smile forms on the young child's face as she wraps her arms around John giving him an excited embrace which he gladly returns. Wishing to always make her happy.

"Okay, I've got to go. Sherlock," John stands and walks to be beside the detective, "please keep your day free so we can continue our talk from earlier." He gives an affectionate kiss on the dark mass of curls causing Sherlock to blush slightly at the gesture.

Max stands on the chair to reach John's height to give a small peck on his cheek, "Goodbye John. Have a good day at work!"

John gives a dopey smile at Max as he feels his chest ache at the loving affection he has received from the miniature replica of Sherlock, while the original feels slightly jealous at seeing that look on his John's face. Also feeling ridiculous at feeling such a way towards a chld of all people, but makes sure to keep a neutral face as the doctor leaves.

Max continues to smile and wave until the door closes, then the mask comes off.

"Now that he's gone it's time for the grown-ups to talk." Max's whole demeanor has changed completely.

"Hmph. 'Grown-ups' would signify that there is more than one adult in the room but since there is only me, the grown-up, and you, the child. I'm going to asume you mean us." Sherlock continues to ignore his daughter as he works on the experiment in front of him since he has no idea how to interact with her. "But I'll humor you. What could we possibly talk about?"

"Will you claim me?" Deciding to take the same direct course as John did earlier.

Sherlock pauses and decides to cease his work so that he turns his attention completely to Max. He can't just continue ignoring her since it seems that she won't be going any time soon. It's slightly unnerving seeing a miniature copy sit right in front of him, a living breathing child. Never in all the possible scenarios that went through his mind that night all those years ago, did he think that a child would be produced. There's no way anyone can really blame him in this kind of situation. How parenthood has just been thrust upon him without the consultant any time to get prepared at all. So it comes to no surprise what he says next.

"Why should I?"

"You don't have too." Max isn't even surprised with his reluctance. "I could try Mycroft or your parents. Although, I'm sure I wouldn't need to go that far. John would never allow it, in fact since he's such a bleeding heart he would sooner leave you then let you abandon your poor, defenseless daughter."

The young seven year old truly is the daughter of both Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler with her talent at manipulation. Sherlock thinks he feels a slight shade of pride at how unordinary she is, just slightly.

"Dear God, I've created a monster." An involuntary smirk worms it's way onto the detectives face.

Max gives a slight snort, "Don't flatter yourself. You contributed, but you didn't create me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That guidance of good practice is like that hipocratic oath of here in the US.


	4. chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max meets some new faces and Sherlock tries to avoid the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kudos, hope you enjoy!

Mrs. Hudson has always protested to being Sherlock's housekeeper but it has never stopped her from caring for her wonderful boys. So as always she makes her way up the stairs while in her hands she carries a tray of morning tea with a few biscuits.

Many are fooled by her sweet outward appearance, believing that she can't handle much. Beacuase God forbid her frail old lady heart wouldn't be able to handle it. But then they don't know about her younger days as the wife of a drug lord and exotic dancing which helped her have the thick skin one would need to be the landlady of Sherlock Holmes. 

An eccentric man that had dismembered pieces of body in the fridge and in other miscellaneous places for his experiments. Shoots at the wall and tears the rest of the flat apart like a tornado whenever he is bored out of his mind. With Sherlock's constant mood swings one must have a considerable amount of patience to fight against the urge to string him up. And along with the consulting detective comes danger from all sorts of men with villainous intentions, men who must have a death wish if they think they can walk away without any form of retribution from Sherlock. 

Mrs. Hudson is made from strong stuff and is kept on her toes with the everyday antics of her tenant. Everything from unruly messes to him faking his death. But nothing would have prepared her for the scene of seeing Sherlock and a smaller version of him sitting at the breakfast table in the middle of a stare down.

"What have we here?" She inquires. Which breaks the father and daughter out of their trance to focus on the new presence in the room.

"Oh! You must be Mrs. Hudson!" Max jumps from her seat and wraps her arms around Mrs. Hudson waist while said women lifts the tray high above her head from the sudden display of affection. Nothing but complete shock written all over her face.

"And who are you dearie?" Even though she was already certain of the answer.

Max gasps and steps back. "How rude of me. My name's Max. I'm Sherlock's bastard child and it's great to meet you. I've always wanted a grandmother." 

"It's not socially acceptable to announce that you are a 'bastard.' I believe they think it's uncouth." Sherlock explains.

As Max looks up to Mrs. Hudson's face she can see that Sherlock is right. Eyebrows are raised in surprise and a tight lipped smile out of politeness.

"Sorry. As you can see I've also inherited his tactfulness." Tilting her head towards Sherlock.

The Landlady is truly at a lost for words. She never truly understood what went on in that funny little head of Sherlock's so she was always suprised with whatever he did. But this just takes the cake. Never once had she ever thought that he would ever be the father of a child and yet against all odds here stands Max. Then it sets in that there is a spawn of Sherlock. She can barely keep up with the two Holmes' that go at each other's throats whenever they are within five feet of each other now there's another one living under her roof. 

They are going to be the death of her.

"I think I broke her." Max states.

"Unlikely. She is used to all sorts of odd occurrences so there's no need to worry about her now." Which rings some truth since after Sherlock says this, Mrs. Hudson sets down the tray and returns the hug from earlier.

"Forgive me, dearie. You gave me a slight fright." She gives a reassuring smile to Max. "I wasn't expecting you this morning, but I'm happy that I will be expecting you everyday from now on."

Max returns the smile and hug enthusiastically. "But I don't think you'll see me everyday. Sherlock says he doesn't want me." Looking down to look pitiful but is really smiling to herself.

Very rarely has Mrs. Hudson ever looked at someone with anger or disappointment but as of right now she is giving both directed at the lithe man. Hugging Max closer to her.

"Sherlock, that is a horrible thing to say to a child. Family is all we have in the end and this precious girl is family." Her tone of voice leaving no room for discution.

But before Sherlock can say anything in return his phone gives the distinct ring of a text notification. Secretly thankful to have a distraction he goes to read the message and sees that it's from Lestrade asking for assistance on a new case located in Holloway. The case isn't even a five but Sherlock is willing to take anything to avoid this awkward confrontation he is about to recieve. He already has the talk with John to look forward to, there's no way he plans to stick around for this one.

"Lestrade needs me." The detective stands from the table to retrieve his coat and scarf.

Max runs to get her shoes, "This will be great. We'll spend some quality father-daughter time and meet John later on for lunch." She stands next to Sherlock once she's ready.

"Mrs. Hudson, keep an eye on her while I'm gone. Shouldn't be long." Completely ignoring Max as he gathers his phone and small tool kit.

"What? No! I want to go too!" Max raises her voice so as to be heard and stomping her feet as she walks over to Sherlock's side, tugging at his sleeve to grab his attention.

Which works, multicolored eyes look down to another pair of multicolored eyes. "As a concerned father I can't possibly take a child to a crime scence. It wouldn't be decent." A smug look of satisfaction crawls it's way onto his face knowing that he has a point. "Isn't that right Mrs. Hudson?" 

"I'm afraid your father's right, dearie. It's no place for a young girl to go." She squats down to be at eye level of Max wearing a patient smile. "But don't you fret, we can have lots of fun while we wait for John and Sherlock to come back."

Knowing that he has won the argument Sherlock says his goodbyes and rushes out of the flat not wanting to be anywhere near it at the moment. Wishing to do nothing more than to be lost in the adventure of a case and forget for the next few hours that his life is still the same from before yesterday.

Max on the other hand is not pleased at all. Storming off into John and Sherlock's room and slams the door hard enough to make the poor landlady jump. 

"Max, dearie. Come out and have some biscuits with me while we watch some tellie." Mrs. Hudson speaks through the door since Max has locked it.

"No! Leave me alone!" Max yells in response with her misguided anger.

Being familiar with the temper with Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson knows that there will be no room for arguing and decides to return downstairs to continue with her morning and will check on the young child later.

On the other side of the door, Max has her small ear pressed against the wood as she listens to the retreating steps of Mrs. Hudson. Once she hears that the door from downstairs is firmly closed, that's when Max jumps into action. 

Heading straight for the window between the framed periodic table and fullbody mirror, but being at the young age of seven limits her height making it difficult to reach. She goes trough the room as she gathers books and boxes to stack on each other to make a makeshift step to pull herself up to the windowsill and makes her escape.

Once successfully outside she climbs down the fire escape to make it safely to the ground. The entirety of London is her oyster and is salivating at all the possibilities, all the trouble she could get into. But first things first she needs to retrieve her belongs from when she left them the previous night at luggage facilities in Paddington Station.

"Just have to find a station somewhere around here." Max begins to walk in a random direction to see where that leads her. 

Since it was late in the evening when she arrived to Baker Street last night, her surroundings were unfamiliar to her now that they were in the sunlight and no longer in the shadows. Not realizing that the direction she was taking was in the opposite direction of Paddington Station or any other station for that matter.

Realizing her mistake she just shrugs her shoulders and carries on, curious as to what's ahead. 

Further up, she sees lush green fields and forestry of Regent's Park filled with families enjoys a Sunday morning along with athletes and the like taking full advantage of the football and rugby fields and cricket pitches. After seeing nothing but a concert jungle from as far as the eye can see, Max is happy to see trees and grass again since she has been raised around the countryside.

"Well looks like I can make some new friends." Feeling confident Max makes her way over to the group of boys playing football on the large plush grass.

Now one thing Max had inherited from Irene Adler was her charismatic charm and people skills. Having always been popular back in the states and having no problem getting along with others. 

After bonding over a game of football she had become friends with Tom and Chris, who are identical twin brothers with blonde hair and blue eyes. Sam, who was the oldest of the group being nine years old but short for his age with deep brown eyes and light brown hair. Then there was Alex who seemed to be the leader of the small group, who was extremely cocky for an eight year old, red hair that went with his firey personality. 

"Where are you from?" Alex asks so as to know more about their new companion.

"Texas. I just moved here last night to live with my dad." Max explains while juggling the ball on her head.

"Woah! Did you live on a ranch and have horses like in the westerns?!" The twins asks with excitement having never gone outside of England and were ignorant of the difference between television and reality.

Max snorts a short laugh at the ridiculous question. "No. Not personally, but I did have neighbors who owned a few and would let me ride them every once in awhile."

"Cool!" The twins have a new look of admiration in their eyes at their new friend Max.

"So are your parents divorced? How long are you going to stay with your dad?" Sam asks.

Max shrugs her shoulders. "Forever, I guess. My mom's dead so now I live with my dad but I've never met him before last night." She looks at everyone to gage their reaction and isn't surprised to see shock, pity, and discomfort. "Don't give me those looks. There's nothing to feel sorry about. It could be a lot worse."

"He's right, mates. Since he's new let's show him the sights. It'll be fun, like we're tourist." Ever the leader Alex proposes an idea that everyone seems to agree to.

Max flashes her new friends a brilliant smile, her first true smile in a long while. All the boys were caught off guard and blush slightly with a warm unfamiliar feeling spreads through them making them feel a bit uncomfortable.

"C-come on, let's get going. There's a zoo on the other side of the park." Alex's cheeks turning the same shade of red as the hair on his head.

Max and the others follow right behind looking forward to the fun to be had. She sees this as a great opportunity to get Sherlock into trouble and hopes to be out and about with her new friends for as long as possible. Looks like its going to be an interesting day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have Sherlock and John arguing, talking, and coming to terms.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to sit down and have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man this took me awhile, but glad how it turned out. Please let me know what yall think.

John sets down his pen on top of his completed paperwork and sighs deeply.

"Uh oh. I know that sigh. What's Sherlock done now?" Sarah asks jokingly.

The army doctor looks up to his coworker who he has known for quite some time even having dated in the early part of their strange relationship. After that go they realized that they were better off as friends and still remain so to this day.

Sarah was a great person to talk to about his Sherlock problems since she also knows what the curly haired detective is like. So on many occasions he vents out his frustrations to her at work or over lunch, glad to have a sympathetic ear. But compared to the problems of the past they seem insignificant to the huge situation on their hands now. John doesn't even know where to begin. 

"Christ. I don't even know where to start." John covers his eyes with one hand. How does one even begin to explain a long lost child showing up to their flat not even knowing of their existence before that night?

"Oh, come on. You know you can always talk to me." Sarah gives John a comforting smile while patting his hand.

John returns the gesture with his own small smile as he goes through his mind to choose his words carefully, "Yesterday-last night really... we got a visitor...," Sarah motions him to continue. "It was-, she's Sherlock's daughter. Sherlock has a daughter." 

The truth finally out. The words are now floating in the air and impossible to take back. Like a mist diluting the air around the two doctors and seeping into Sarah's mind. As the words settle in like a sponge absorbing water, shock enters.

"Did Sherlock cheat on you?" Both angry and surprised that the detective would be capable of doing such a thing to John.

"What? No, no." Defending Sherlock, "This was... it happened before we even got together. God, this is complicated."

Sarah reels in her emotions, believing that that makes a lot more sense. Never has she seen a couple so devoted to each other than these two, so it was hard to belive that either one of them could be capable of betraying the other. The thing that shocked her most was that Sherlock ever had any past relationships since he wasn't what people would call "normal."

"Okay. Hold on." Sarah holds her hand up like a crossing guard to take a breath. "Start from the beginning."

"Max. Her name's Max and she's seven years old." Starting with the basic information before getting to the hard stuff, but John continues. "And, my god, you should see her. She looks exactly like Sherlock, even acts like him too. We had a strange... relationship with Max's mother." 

John looks off into the distance as if he can see the memories replay themselves in front of him. Like a home movie he reviews his past of first coming across Irene Adler when Mycroft had bought him and Sherlock to Buckingham Palace giggling at the ridiculous situation they were in. Walking in on a nude Irene and Sherlock bantering and other moments held in his memories that were spent with her, along with equally complex emotions that accompanied them.

John shakes himself from his reminiscing bringing himself back to the present with Sarah. "We were hired to get something back from her then later on she hired us to help her out. The way Sherlock and her interacted was like watching two blinding creatures dancing. Irene Adler was her name, she's dead now. Thought she died years ago but Sherlock helped fake her death and she lived to continue her days blazing her way through America and seemed to get into some serious trouble... so now here we are today."

"Well... you weren't kidding about it being complicated." Sarah's sorry attempt at trying to change the heavy atmosphere with a light joke but inside she is lost in a hurricane at the complexity of it all. Nothing was ever simple with the army doctor and consulting detective. "How do you feel?"

"Shocked, confused and a little hurt." 

Just to name a few of the rainbow of emotions going through John's mind. Shocked like Sarah that his husband was even with anyone before John. Confused how to proceed with a life altering decision that wasn't just up to him alone but with Shelock and Max as well. Hurt that Sherlock didn't feel like he could confide with John with the truth but realizing how petty that is because Sherlock did the right thing withholding it from him. 

Mixed in with all the negative emotions there were also positive ones. Already John had a strong feeling of love towards the young girl along with an intense sense of protectiveness, wanting to keep all the dangers and emotional pain that tried to get near Max away. Especially after learning that there were others after her.

Dwelling more on the positive emotions causes John to grow a warm smile and relax his face. "But you know? She's such an amazing girl that I'm already falling as fast in love with her as I did with Sherlock when he first invited me to our first crime scene together. I've always wanted kids but I've also been hesitant, what with never been able to bring the topic up with Sherlock." 

"Have you spoken with Sherlock about how you feel?" 

John huffs out a laugh, "No. We haven't had the chance to yet. But I've already made up my mind, I would like to raise her with him. I already care about her so much, probably because she's Sherlock's, because I don't think I could fall this quickly for any other kid."

Sarah smiles happily glad to know that the young girl will be in good hands since John seems like he would be a dotting father.

"Well. Go on, go talk to him." Sarah waves her hands at John running him off. 

"I will. Thanks for listening." John stands and walks away.

He exits the clinic to enter into the crisp mid August air. Taking note of the time, he still has a little over an hour before he has to meet up with Sherlock and Max back at the flat for lunch so the good doctor decides to walk in the direction of some local shops, in hopes of finding a suitable gift for Max in hopes to convey his intentions and start off on a good note.

After spending a equal amount of time in a few shops, and with the help of suggestions from many of the employees, John makes his purchase feeling confident that the small gift will make little Max happy. He leaves with a small bounce to his step trying to hail down a taxi to take him back to Baker Street. It's as he sits down in the taxi does he straighten himself to his solider stance preparing himself to go into battle with Sherlock.

John is so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he nearly forgets to pay the cabbie once he's arrived back home. As he exits the cab, John thinks to himself how quick the drive was and still feels a little hesitant about going up and having a serious talk with his husband that may be one of the biggest decisions either one could make. The small weight from the bag in his hand helps give the little push that he needs remembering who he's doing this for and walks into the flat fearlessly with a newfound sense of purpose.

With each step up the stairs he feels as though he were a knight climbing up the castle to save the princess from the fire breathing vilian and by the time John reaches the door he has no doubt in his mind that he'll be able to convince Sherlock to claim Max as their own so that they can live happily ever after. Vivid pictures of family trips, walking Max to school, and other stereotypical domestic family things are forming in the army doctor's mind.

"Sherlock! Max! I'm home!" John's voice echos through the empty flat, the scene closely resembles that from many family movies or TV shows. 

It was shortly after John announces his arrival that he hears footsteps climbing the stairs which causes him to turn to see who's coming. 

"Ah, John you're back." Sherlock bends down to give their usual 'welcome back kiss.'

John accepts the gesture and returns it, "Yeah, just got back. Where'd you go and where's Max?" Looking behind the detective for any traces of the young girl.

"Hm? Oh. Lestrade needed help on a case." Sherlock makes his way past the soldier to open up his laptop. "It never fails to surprise me how they ever do anything on their own. It was a simple domestic homicide and the culprits were the siblings. Completely dull and a waste of my time."

"Yes, yes. The Brilliant Sherlock Holmes has to help the less intellegent. Sorry if I'm not overly sympathetic towards your suffering." John says sarcastically as he rolls his eyes.

"You know I hate that tone." Sherlock glares back. 

John replies back with a humored smile. But it doesn't stay on for long as his eyes turn hard with a more serious undertone knowing that their talk can't be put off any longer.

"Where's Max?" John asks.

Sherlock tenses slightly feeling dred at knowing he can stall no longer. "Last I saw her, she barracated herself in our room throwing a tantrum at not being allowed to come along with me on a case. Left her in Mrs. Hudson's care. If the silence in the flat is anything to go by, Max must be downstairs with her."

"Good." John nods. "That will give us the opportunity to sit down and have a chat."

The army doctor marches over to the desk where Sherlock sits and the detective already knows John's stance on the topic. John walks with the same purpose he does when he walks onto the battlefield to fight for what he wants which is also reflected in the blue eyes that remind Sherlock of a Bunsen burner. The intense and rich blue that the detective is familiar with. 

The shopping bag that John has been holding onto tightly like a anchor is another indicator. Obviously for Max from the look of the brightly colored bag no doubt John went to a toy store to buy a gift. That explains how he beat Sherlock back to the flat. 

He can clearly picture John speaking about the situation at hand to Sarah, and with the soft spot she holds towards John, let him leave work earlier than usual. With the free time John had, he used it to go shopping and received assistance from the employees since John has never been good at shopping, but then again neither has Sherlock.

"The final decision comes down to me then? I can see you've already made yours and are ready to hash it out on me to make the same." Sherlock says.

John sighs. "You no doubt know that I've always wanted children even though I never had much experience with them it was always something I saw myself having in the future. I know that you're good with children even if you don't like to admit it." John pauses to look straight into the orbs that seem to hold the entire galaxy before he spoke his next words. "I've been more than happy that it's been just me and you, since I have you I really didn't mind if we added a child to the mix or not. I've only ever wanted you."

Sherlock listens quietly while he is reassured by John's feelings towards the eccentric detective.

"And yes you're right. I've made up my mind." John takes a breath not because he is scared but knows how heavy the next words out of his mouth will be and reaches out to hold Sherlock's hand. "I want to keep Max, I want to raise her alongside you."

There is a moment of silence after John voices his wishes. With each passing second the air around them feels heavier as they come to the fork in the road that they have no other choice than to decide because they can no longer go back, only forward.

Sherlock parts his lips to give his answer after what feels like an eternity of silence.

"My answer is 'No.'" 

John knew that Sherlock would say this, but he had hoped that there would be a small part of Sherlock that was equally as excited to raise a family together. Well that hope was crushed and he could only croak out one question. 

"Why?" 

Sherlock stands from his desk so that he can move around, with a sudden urge to do anything but sit. "Why would I want her? I didn't plan for this to happen so I don't understand why I should claim her. There are many people who give up children, I'm not the first nor will I be the last. They never needed reasons so why should I?"

"It doesnt matter if you didn't plan this!" John raises his voice as it grows with anger. Like fuel added to a fire. "She's here now, with no one else in the world but you and as your husband she has me as well!"

"Yes, that may be true but as the biological father the decision falls on me and me alone to claim her as mine or not." Sherlock replies coldly.

The army doctor feels as if he'd been slapped across the face. "How can you say that? We took vows that we would do everything together, these past ten years have been testament of that. I will fight you tooth and nail over this and I will not let you give her away without a reason! Now tell me why?"

"John you wouldn't understand." The brunette sighs as his shoulders slump knowing that this will be a gruesome argument.

"Of course I don't understand unless you explain it to me, just like with your cases. We all can't be geniuses like you can we?" John argues trying to lighten the air with his usual sarcastic behavior.

"John, please." Sherlock begs hoping that the end of this talk is near, but it seems like John isn't going to let this go anytime soon.

"No! I'm not dropping this. Not until you give me your reasons." The solider says as he squares his shoulders, not budging.

"I'm not-" 

"Please, Sherlock. Help me understand, walk me through it." Blue eyes starting to mist over with moisture from tears starting to form out of frustration at their struggle to communicate.

The watery eyes are not missed by the ever observant lithe man and a storm of emotions are let loose. Sherlock is at war with himself to crush John into his arms and promise anything to bring comfort to the blonde, but it is held at bay with his determination at not being a father towards Max. All the turmoil battling within Sherlock and fighting with John is starting to ware on him.

"Sher-"

"You want to know my reasons?! Fine! I'll tell you why I don't want to raise Max, why if I would have known this would have happened I never would have slept with Irene!" Sherlock yells, fruastred by the constant hounding from John.

John is taken aback by the sudden outburst but knows that this is what he asked for. He is happy that he'll know the reasons why Sherlock is so opposed to the idea of raising a child so all that's left is to hear what Sherlock has to say and then they'll be able to move on from there.

The detective takes a moment to calm the storm that were his emotions after that sudden outburst. Still walking back and forth around the flat trying to help calm his nerves so as to prevent his temperament from exploding like that again.

"Do you remember Sebastian Wilkes?" The brunette asks.

A little confused at the sudden question, John doesn't remember who Sherlock is talking about at first, but memories from The Blind Banker resurface.

"Yeah, that wanker who worked at the bank." The doctor says still slightly confused about the question.

"And do you remember that night when I thought I saw the Hound? That small outburst?" A faraway look in Sherlock's eyes gives away that he is walking through his Mind Palace reliving the past.

Just like the fog from the moor, an equally foggy memory of the two sitting in front of the fire trying to calm down from an adventurous night. But what stands out the most from that memory were the hurtful words from Sherlock of how he didn't consider John as a friend.

"I remember how you said you 'don't have friends.'" John qoutes.

Sherlock smiles grimly. "Yes. Because before you...before that fateful day at Bart's. I was completely alone. Very few people liked me, in fact the majority hated me."

Suddenly everything clicks in John's mind. How Sherlock doesn't want history repeating itself.

"I had an extremely lonely childhood," Sherlock admits with a pained look in his eyes but continues with his sad tale of his past, "all the way up until I met you. Countless years of having no one to share experiences with like everyone else does. My only companion was my dog and even that was short lived."

At this point the detective has stopped moving all together with his back turned, facing away from John who has a concerned look on his face. 

Always the empathic doctor.

"Can you imagine that John? A small child constanly hurt by the endless jabs from others that weren't as understanding as you. After a while I slowly killed off my emotions so that no one could make me feel what I didn't want to feel. I also made a promise." Sherlock turns then to look into the eyes of his loving husband thinking to himself how lucky he is to have his John. "I promised myself that I would never have children. I would never wish what I had been through onto any child."

No longer able to hold himself back John crosses the small space between them to bring Sherlock into a crushing embrace. Trying with every fiber of his being to convey all the love and acceptance he has within him to reach this beautifully brilliant man that has had the misfortune of being deprived of for so long.

"I-" John's voice cracks from the tightness in his that and prevents the words from being spoken, but tries to speak again. 

"I can't promise that everything will be perfect, nor can I promise that you're wrong and she won't go through the same things as you did." John holds Sherlock's face in between his hands. "But I can promise you that we will both be there to wipe away all the doubt, we will be there to silence all the negative voices so that she will know that she is loved and never alone."

At the heartfelt vow from John a few tears escape from Sherlock's eyes. The detective has always taken pride from keeping himself detached, but at this moment he wants nothing more than to bask in the warm embrace of his army doctor. It has always been John, the blonde had this incredible talent at keeping Sherlock right and this moment was no exception.

"You promise to be there?" Sherlock asks after swollowing the tightness in his throat.

"Of course. I've promised remember? 'Til death do us part,' this may not be a funeral, but this won't run me off." John wipes the stray tears from Sherlock's eyes and gives he taller of the two a chaste kiss on the mouth to reassure Sherlock.

"Don't speak too soon. With two Holmes living under one roof you may be begging for a divorce by the end of the week." A playful smirk worms onto Sherlock's face.

""Well that's a challenge I know I can prove wrong." John smiles broadly. " Now come on, let's go get Max from Mrs. Hudson's so we can go eat lunch."

Speak of the devil and he will appear. It was at this moment that the landlady knocks on the door.

"Yoo-hoo!" Mrs. Hudson opens the door and lets herself in. "I'm glad you two are making up. I'm sure the whole street could hear that domestic squabble. And poor Max having to listen to that."

"What? I thought she was downstairs with you?" John asks suddenly feeling dred at finding out that Max was just in the other room listening to everything.

"No, afraid not. She wouldn't come out of the room, so I thought it best to give her her space." Mrs. Hudson says with a look of concern towards John and Sherlock's bedroom.

A heavy sinking feeling drops onto John's stomach at finding out that Max had been there the entire time, listening to the conversation that she was not meant to hear. He can only picture Max crouched in a corner and feeling hurt from unfiltered words. John makes his way over to the bedroom and taps tentatively on the door.

"Max? Are you there?" John draws closer to the door to be able to hear a reply. 

Silence is the only response. Which confirms John's fears. He looks back behind him to catch Sherlock's eyes conveying voicelessly that now was time to do damage control.

"Max? We're coming in." Both John and Sherlock step into the bedroom to which they find completely empty.

The stack of boxes that make a makeshift step under the window is a dead give away at what happened, the room completely absent of human life, and a cold fear spreads through the pair.

John bolts from the room, "She isn't there!"

"What do you mean she isn't there? Where else could she be?" Mrs. Hudson asks.

"The room is empty and the window is open which tells us that she escaped through the window and is now roaming about London as we speak." The detective is surprised that he even has to point that out, someone from Scotland Yard could have figured that out.

That was not too tactful on Sherlock's part because now John is starting to panic.

"Oh no! Oh my god! Oh my god!" John grips his hair as he paces the floor having a full blown panic attack. "We haven't even had her for more than a day and we already lost her!"

"Calm down John I'll get my homeless network on it and they'll find Max in no time." The detective reaches for his phone from his pocket to send out the text.

John snatches the phone from Sherlock's hands, "Absolutely not! I don't want a tramp walking up to her!" He takes a moment to think on who would be able to help them. "Mycroft."

"What?"

"Call him. Your brother can handle this and while we're at it let's call Lestrade as well to help out." The solider is on edge, ready to go on their rescue mission.

Sherlock walks over to the small distraught man to hold him and calm John down from hyperventilating. "John it's going to be alright were going to go out and find her. She couldn't have gotten far so if we leave now well be able to bring her back safely."

With his ear close to the steady rythem of Sherlock's heart, John takes a breath and feels himself calm down. Funny how he had just promised Sherlock that he would always be there for him and yet the curly haired brunette never failed to surprise John.

This sweet moment didn't last long as the ringing from Sherlock's phone cut through the air causing both men to jump and for Sherlock to give a annoyed grunt.

He retires his phone back from John and snarls into the phone, "What is it now?"

Annoyance is soon replaced by wide eyes from surprise as Sherlock listens to the person on the other end but before John can ask who it is Sherlock is rushing towards the door and down the stairs knowing that his army doctor will be following closely behind.

"Wait, hold on!" John yells as he chases Sherlock outside. "Who was that? What's wrong?"

"We need to get to Scotland Yard." Sherlock answers as he hails down a cab.

From that small amount of information it only leaves John more confused. "What? Why? What about looking for Max?"

"She's there with Lestrade." 

A cab stops in front of the pair and they quickly make their way inside. As John sits next to Sherlock he feels this heavy weight lift off his chest knowing that Max is safe and sound, closely resembling the same feeling one has when getting off a terrifying ride and just wants to throw up from relief.

New emotions settle in such as anger and confusion. When they reach Max she goes going to be in so much trouble, but they are also concerned how she came to be in the custody of the authorities. Knowing the family genes it wasn't anything good. 

It looks like the road of parenthood isn't going to be easy.


End file.
